How far would you
go to find yourself?That’s the question that’s been haunting Olivia Owens for years.

All Olivia has ever wanted to do is live and make mistakes, but her preacher
father has made that impossible. She believes that her years at college will be
her ticket into the real world and her chance to be wild and spontaneous.

But she’s never been able to do it on her own.

At the start of her sophomore year, she only has four things crossed off her
Live List, but that’s all about to change thanks to a chance encounter with
Trace Wentworth. She’s about to learn that there’s more to this reformed bad
boy than just his looks and panty dropping smile.

Trace can’t explain what it is that draws him to Olivia.

All he knows is that he wants to get to know the girl with the sad smile but
sparkle in her eyes.

When she tells him about her list, he knows that this is his chance to get to
know Olivia Owens. Trace is determined to show Olivia that she can do all the
things she’s ever wanted to do. So, he begins to help her cross things off her
list, even the more outlandish requests.

What happens along the way is more than what Olivia or Trace ever expected.

How far would you go to reignite the spark you once had?Two years later, Trace and Olivia are as much in love as they’ve always been.
But the spark they once had for life is waning and Trace is determined that
they find it again. His solution? A road trip. But he doesn’t tell Olivia the
real reason they’re heading north.

Olivia is happy to go on a road trip and have more adventures with Trace.
Besides, she needs a distraction from the soap opera her life has become. With
college over, this is the perfect opportunity to chase down the carefree girl
she once was.

But life isn’t a fairytale and you can only escape reality for so long.

I’m drowning in the numbness. It’s pulling me under and I can’t see the surface. It’s easier to pretend I can’t feel. And the longer you pretend, the easier it is to believe. But he wants to save me. Only he can’t. I have to save myself…and I don’t know if I want to.

Rowan Sinclair’s life has been anything but easy. With an alcoholic mother and a sleazy stepfather, it’s been her responsibility to raise her younger siblings. At twenty-one she’s chained to a life she doesn’t want, but sees no other alternative. After all, what would happen to her brother and sister if she were to leave?

Trenton Wentworth sees the pain behind Rowan’s eyes. He wants nothing more than to make it disappear. To hold her. To love her. Except Rowan keeps everyone at a safe distance. But if there’s anyone that can break down the walls she’s built around herself, it’s Trent. So she avoids him at all costs. But Trent isn’t one to be easily evaded. He’s stubborn and determined. He’ll save this girl even if it costs him everything.

Even tough girls
need saving.Jude Brooks is bad news. He’s the kind of guy that leaves behind a string of
broken hearts and Tatum O’ Connor is not about to be one of those girls,
despite all of Jude’s advances. They have a past, and Tatum’s determined to
make sure they don’t have a future.

Unfortunately for her, “no” isn’t a word in Jude’s vocabulary.

The more she backs away, the more he pushes.

But what if he pushes too far?

Tatum’s hiding a pain that no one sees and holding on to a hurt that may never
heal. Letting Jude into her heart could shatter her completely—and what if she
opens up to Jude and he can’t handle her baggage?

Love is never easy—especially when the person you’re falling for is the person
you blame for the worst event in your life.

Hi.
I’m Micalea. Ma-call-e-uh. Weird name, I know. My mom must’ve known I was going
to be odd even in the womb. I’ve written a lot of books. Like a lot. Don’t ask
me how many, I don’t remember at this point. I have an unhealthy addiction to
Diet Coke but I can’t seem to break the habit. I listen to way too much music
and hedgehogs have taken over my life. Crazy is the word that
best sums up my life, but it’s the good kind of crazy and I wouldn’t change it
for anything.

ASHLYN I went against
all I believed in and fell in love with what should have been a one-night
stand! I fought it, tried to make up rules to prevent the inevitable, but
somehow, he knew all along. He understood what I wanted and was willing to
comply. I was the one who took him for granted. I was the one who made him walk
away. And now, he’s gone and I’m left with nothing but my thoughts and regrets.
He was never supposed to be my happily ever after. But my favorite love story
ends in tragedy, so why wouldn’t mine?

RYDER I played the
white knight, doing what every woman dreams of to win her over, yet it still
got me nowhere! But what did I expect? I wasn’t the man she wanted! Nothing I
could have done would have landed me the girl. I guess love is funny that way.
One minute, you think you have the girl, and the next, you realize you were
blinded. Walking away was hard, but watching her with another man was harder.
Sometimes you have to pick your battles, and I know when I’ve lost. Love
shouldn’t be a game, but I learned someone always loses. For once, I wasn’t the
one being selfish, but I was the one who paid the price.

Shantel is a
Texas born girl who now lives in Tulsa, Oklahoma with her high school
sweetheart, who is a wonderful, supportive husband and their seven year old
little princess. She loves to spend time cuddled up on the couch with a good
book.

She considers
herself extremely lucky to get to be a stay at home wife and mother. Going to
concerts and the movies are just a few of her favorite things to do. She hates
coffee, but loves wine. She and her husband are both huge football fans,
college and NFL. And she has to feed her high heel addiction by shopping for
shoes weekly.

Although she has
a passion to write, her family is most important to her. She loves spending
evenings at home with her husband and daughter, along with their cat and dog.

Racer, an all-new standalone in the Real Series from New York Times bestselling author Katy Evans is LIVE!

A bad boy with something to prove.

A woman with a mission.

The race of their lives.

The love of a lifetime.

I don’t think his parents expected him to live up to his name—Racer Tate—but once he felt the adrenaline rush behind the wheel, he was addicted.

He’s the fastest, fiercest driver around.

Scouting new talent brings me to his doorstep…

but his smile sends me to my knees.

The sexy, mysterious Racer Tate is not the kind of man a girl like me falls for. He’s secretive, reckless, elusive. But his proximity pushes me beyond reason, and his kiss….

This is our last chance to win, and he is our only hope. I’m supposed to watch him—make sure he doesn’t get into trouble. But it’s an impossible task. And now the one in heart wrenching, toe-curling, soul-crushing trouble is me. Because when your heart belongs to someone, their truths become your own, and their secrets become your salvation…or your curse.

He says he wants me. He says I’m the One. But he also thinks he’ll break my heart, one piece at a time until it’s gone.

My Review:

4.5 Stars!

Remember that feeling you had after reading Real? Well, take that and multiply it by 100! Racer is his father and so much more! I dare you not to fall in love!

I flove this series, but I will admit I was a bit hesitant going in to Racer. Adding to a series by writing about the kids can be hit or miss. Well, it was a definite hit here. Katy Evans bring her A-game to Racer. Racer is complicated and intense and perfectly flawed. Lana is strong and loyal and loving. The story is instalove at it’s finest. (Back off instalove haters. Even you will love this!) While the angst is low, the build up is strong. Anticipation is the name of the game. When Lana finally gives in to Racer it is an explosion of sex and feelings and it is absolutely beautiful.

There really isn’t much else to say other than READ THIS BOOK! I FLOVED it. Grab Racer and take this romantic thrill ride!

Excerpt:

I’m still reeling. While people approach him, he cuts a path straight to me, his gaze penetrating and target-like; making me want to bolt.

His lips do that little upward tilt they do that seems so sexy, and for a second, I feel like I’m lightheaded.

I gulp, and then feel mad at myself for acting like some idiot as fucking devil-Racer Tate reaches me, throws himself into a seat next to me, and turns to look at me expectantly with the most gorgeous grin on his face.

I don’t know what to say.

This guy has left me sort of speechless.

“So … ” I say, staring in the distance at his beat-up mustang, then at him.

“So … ” he says too, in his deep voice, his smile a little more wicked than it was two seconds ago. He glances at my mouth.

Oh god.

Why am I licking my lips?

It only made his eyes narrow and darken.

I open my mouth to speak, failing to find words. He smells like sweat and soap and shampoo, and I feel my traitorous nipples push up to my top again. Why do they do that when he’s around?

“This is illegal,” I state.

His voice is husky from exertion, and his eyes glint with laughter. “That’s why it’s fun.”

I look away from his eyes, trying to focus and clear my head. He leans over and peers into my face, his face shadowed by the moonlight and his jaw now carrying a little scruff. “Are we in agreement?” he presses.

I purse my lips, still glaring as my gaze goes back to his car. Girls are rubbing against it as if it were him, and I find it disgusting. Why are women always acting so slutty around race car drivers and bad boys?

“You crashed your car,” I say flippantly.

“You crashed my car,” he contradicts, amused.

I laugh, then scowl in his direction. “You crashed it more. I can’t believe you were making such a fuss about me crashing into you when it was just a little kiss—”

He leans in to peck my lips—fast but firmly. “That’s a kiss.”

I lose my breath.

My eyes wide.

He eases back, lips smiling as he comes to his feet and stretches his hand out to take me by the elbow and help me to my feet.

Read Today!

About the Author:

Katy Evans is a New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author. Her debut REAL shot to the top of the bestselling lists in 2013 and since then 9 of her titles have been New York Times bestsellers. Her books have been translated into nearly a dozen languages across the world.

I didn’t think I had anything left to lose when I went to him. It was the only way to save what was left of my family. I knew I was taking a chance, knew there would be consequences, but I had no choice. Not if I wanted to save my brother.

He warned me to be careful. That my brother wasn’t who I thought he was. I didn’t believe him though. Not until it was too late.

USA Today Bestselling author Natasha Knight writes dark romance as well as spanking romance in a variety of genres including contemporary, paranormal, post-apocalyptic, science-fiction and fantasy. She is a #1 Amazon Bestseller in multiple categories forever searching in every story for that single most important element of love. All of her stories contain at least one kinky Alpha male, lots of dirty talk and a well deserved happily ever after.

Exclusive Excerpt:

I wasn’t a big drinker. Ever. And I had no idea how many bottles of alcohol Blake, and I had gone through. Or when he got so funny.

Maybe it was the accent. It was a mixture of sort-of-kind-of-french and northern Minnesotan, which I guess was basically Canada. But when he spoke he rolled his Rs like a French man, and I couldn’t help but stare at his mouth. And I should have stopped staring or stopped talking after the first glass. Then he just kept filling mine up, and I kept staring, and there we were, me laughing and staring at his beautiful mouth.

“You really had a Mohawk for Sochi trials?” I asked, almost spitting out my Soju that was a sugary vodka and supposed to be a very popular drink in Korea.

Blake laughed and filled my cup again. “Yeah. I wanted to stand out. You Americans can’t have all the flair with your blue-haired swimmers.”

I pointed at him and leaned on my elbow. “Hey! Those summer guys aren’t the same, and you know it!”

He grabbed my hand, and a smirk crossed his face that brought out one small dimple on his cheek. I don’t know if it was the large amounts of alcohol we consumed or that dimpled smile, but all of my body felt flushed, and I was sure my face had to be redder than the Canadian flag. “It’s not nice to point, Miss Johnson. Even an American knows that.”

I tried not to focus on how warm and rough his hands were on mine. His whole palm covered my fists, and I briefly wondered how big other things were before quickly shooting that thought out of my head, and pulling my hand away. I didn’t need to think about sex, no matter how long it had been. This was The Games. Not a time for romance or lust. “I wanna see a Mohawk picture. Come on; I know you’ve got one on your phone.”

“Only if you show me one of yours pictures. I’m sure you have some from your early days of skating. The American costumes in the nineties weren’t exactly some of your proudest moments. Or at least that’s what your movies showed me.” He raised an eyebrow before taking a sip of his drink, which was more like a giant gulp.

Gathering some courage, I poured the rest of the bottle in his glass. “I don’t even know what I have on my phone. Nothing exciting. No 1980s scrunchies or poofy sleeved leotards.”

He laughed. “I’m sure you’ve got something. Now show me yours, and I’ll show you mine.”

About Magan Vernon:

Magan Vernon has been living off of reader tears since she wrote her first short story in 2004. She now spends her time killing off fictional characters, pretending to plot while she really just watches Netflix, and she tries to do this all while her two young children run amok around her Texas ranch.

Inked Hearts

“Six years, a complex about my freckles, a love for pastrami, and a fear of failure.
That’s what he gave me before slaughtering my heart and my faith in men.”

Suffering from the sting of betrayal, twenty-eight-year-old Avery Johannas quits her job and moves hundreds of miles away to Ocean City, the beach town of her dreams. With the help of her zany roommate, Jodie, Avery finds a new career, home, and freedom. Throughout her self-exploration, she makes only one rule: She won’t give her heart to a man again. She’s living for herself this time.
But then she meets Jesse.

A tattoo shop owner, the green-eyed Jesse Pearce is wild with a touch of mystery. As Jesse and Avery explore Ocean City and their friendship, they’ll have a hard time drawing a line in the sand between their hearts.

When summer nights get a little more heated than either expected, they’ll have to ask themselves: Can they let go of their notions of love, or will their hearts be permanently inked by past pain?

About Lindsay Detwiler

An English teacher, an author, and a fan of anything pink and/or glittery, Lindsay’s the English teacher cliché; she loves cats, reading, Shakespeare, and Poe.

She currently lives in her hometown with her husband, Chad (her junior high sweetheart); their cats, Arya, Amelia, Alice, Marjorie, and Bob; and their Mastiff, Henry.

Lindsay’s goal with her writing is to show the power of love and the beauty of life while also instilling a true sense of realism in her work. Some reviewers have noted that her books are not the “typical romance.” With her novels coming from a place of honesty, Lindsay examines the difficult questions, looks at the tough emotions, and paints the pictures that are sometimes difficult to look at. She wants her fiction to resonate with readers as realistic, poetic, and powerful. Lindsay wants women readers to be able to say, “I see myself in that novel.” She wants to speak to the modern woman’s experience while also bringing a twist of something new and exciting. Her aim is for readers to say, “That could happen,” or “I feel like the characters are real.” That’s how she knows she’s done her job.

Lindsay’s hope is that by becoming a published author, she can inspire some of her students and other aspiring writers to pursue their own passions. She wants them to see that any dream can be attained and publishing a novel isn’t out of the realm of possibility.

The morons can’t even spell. And the texts I’ve been receiving are what wet dreams are made of. But I’m not like these douchebags, no matter how hard they try to turn me into one.

THIS ISN’T THE KIND OF ATTENTION I WANT.

One text stands out from hundreds. One number I can’t bring myself to block. She seems different. Hotter, even in black and white.

However, after seeing her in person, I know she’s not the girl for me. But my friends won’t let up—they just don’t get it. Douchebags or not, there’s one thing they’ll never understand: GIRLS DON’T WANT ME.

Especially her.

My Review:

4 Stars!!

Ahhh, young love!

The book tells the story of a college wrestler who is oblivious to girls and the girl who falls for him. He may be built, but his face is not naturally handsome and he has no skills… like none. When his jerky roommates play a prank on him, putting posters with his face and phone number saying he needs to get laid, he doesn’t expect to me her. She contacts him as a joke at first, but the more she texts him, the more she likes him. Unfortunately, he doesn’t get it. He can’t believe someone like her would see anything in him.

I enjoyed the book, but at times it was almost painful to read. He was so clueless, even when she gave him blatant hints. She was slightly full of her self, but you can’t help but like her when her vulnerability comes through. His roommates and teammates are Class A jerks!

He’s seated at a table in the far corner when I spot him from the door. He’s not hard to miss—not with his purple t-shirt in a sea of black and yellow, and wavy mussed hair.

He’s slouching, hunched over his table.

Defeated. Tired.

My stomach rolls with nerves, nerves that have me rooted to the spot in the doorway, watching him.
Just watching.

For the entire four minutes I stand here, he sits immobile, studying his laptop, eyes moving along the screen, completely transfixed by whatever he’s reading.

Learning.

“Just go over there,” I whisper to myself, blowing out a puff of pent-up air.

I put one foot in front of the other and begin toward him, spine ramrod straight, steeling myself, prepared for another argument.

Twenty feet.

Fifteen.

Eight.

Two.

“Hi.”

No reply.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” I lay my hand on the back of the wooden chair across from him, intending to pull it out.

He stiffens but doesn’t lift his head. “Yes I mind.”

“Would you mind if I sat at the table next to you?” I’m pushing his buttons, looking for a reaction, but he only spares me a brief glance.

Shrugs. “Free country.”

I bite my lip to hide a smile, glad he didn’t tell me to take a hike…

Sara Ney is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the How to Date a Douchebag series, and is best known for her sexy, laugh-out-loud New Adult romances. Among her favorite vices, she includes: iced latte’s, historical architecture and well-placed sarcasm. She lives colorfully, collects vintage books, art, loves flea markets, and fancies herself British.

On the roof of a house outside Truelove, Maine, master carpenter Max Doyle looks down through a skylight and sees the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. She’s naked, she’s gorgeous, and everything about her is perfect, down to the ball-busting tattoo of a rose that wraps around her hip. But it isn’t just any woman making his knees buckle. It’s his best friend, Rosie Madden. And as he stands there, mesmerized and precariously close to toppling off the roof, he knows he’ll never, ever be able to look at her the same way again.Rosie can’t help but notice that Max is suddenly acting very strange—lots of long stares, totally tongue-tied, and not at all like the slightly cocky hunk she’s proud to call her best friend. She can’t figure it out, until later that night when Max rescues her from the world’s worst date, challenges her to a game of pool, and shows her just exactly what she’s got him thinking about. Repeatedly.But life is complicated. Rosie’s cat, Julia Caesar, wants to eat Max’s dog Cupcake for an afternoon snack. A dream job threatens to pull them apart. And another glance through the skylight changes everything, one more time. Yet try as they might, they can’t go back to being just friends, because falling in love with the one you’ve always adored?It feels so good.

I couldn’t do it. I wanted to do it because he kissed with such passion and such aggression that I felt like every single bone in my body was saying, Rosie, this is a table, just lie down and let him have you. But this was Max. My Max. I didn’t kiss Max; I needed Max. But now here I was, liquored up on way-more-than-two margaritas, and losing all my freaking common sense.

Idiot. Idiot.

Summoning up all my strength, and resisting the gravitational pull of the pool table too, I pushed him away. I turned away and slipped off the rail. I grabbed my purse from the hook underneath the corner pocket and hustled for the door. I could hear Max saying my name, I knew he was trying to make a grab for me, but I had to get out of there. The taste of him had been intoxicating, disorienting.

It had been heaven. And he could not be my heaven.

He was the gallon of Rocky Road I should not have. He was the box of chocolates I should not eat.

So without saying goodbye to Fletcher, without even paying my part of our tab, I beat a quick exit for the door, or I tried to anyway. The place was packed, and I had to squirm my way through a whole slew of enormous fishermen, all broad shoulders and barrel chests, like extras from some Viking documentary kicking back after a long day of Hollywood pillage and plunder. Each step was perilous, all their steel-toed boots mere inches from crunching my bare toes. Finally, I did get to the exit and hurled myself out of the door into the dark quiet of the gravel parking lot. Chirping crickets and the buzz of a slowly dying Summer Shandy sign filled the air. The hot air of the bar was swept away by the warm breeze off the water. I inhaled hard, trying to clear my head.

My mind spinning and my feathers decidedly ruffled, I grabbed my keys and tottered to my Bug. But no sooner had I put my key in the lock than the bar door squeaked open and there was Max, coming for me. “No fucking way,” he said, pulling my keys from my hand. “Don’t you dare, Rosie. Don’t you dare.”

It hadn’t even occurred to me what I was doing. I couldn’t drive, for God’s sake. I wasn’t tumble-down drunk, but I was far too tipsy to be going anywhere at all. So I went for Plan B and started to march down the street.

“What are you going to do? Walk?”

“It’s not that far!” I swatted a huge mosquito that had attached itself to my arm like a jungle dart. “What is it, three miles? Four?” I flapped my hand in the air to say, It’s nothing! But honestly, I don’t think I’d ever walked three miles in my life. I’d have to call a cab. I’d have to hitchhike. Still though, still!

Max grabbed my hand and spun me into him. Our bodies collided, and I became acutely aware of his brawn. “Seven miles. Jesus. Let me take you home at least,” he said, his voice all growly and sexy and…

“I know what these mosquitos do to you.” He swept his big, rough hand over my bare arm, letting his fingers move lightly along the bend in my elbow.

My breath got caught up in my throat. It was like a hiccup interrupted a cough. For the first time, I understood what it meant to have someone’s touch light you on fire. And not just that either: the kiss was still lingering, the taste of him still on my lips. Sweet and salty. Delicious. He trailed his fingers down the inside of my forearm and back up again. As proof of the fact he’d made alphabet soup of my brain, all I could think to say was, “I don’t know why they never bite you.”

He laughed a little and smiled as he stepped into me. “Because you’re way fucking sweeter.”

He kept his hand there, on my arm, and his other cradled me at the small of my back. Even in the semidarkness, I could see him perfectly, because I knew everything about him. His rarely seen right dimple, his smile lines, the salt and pepper that was starting to show in his sideburns. The necklace with half my name on it. The curve of his delicious bum. Even in the dark, I knew him. Even in the dark, I wanted him. But even in the dark, I knew it was a terrible idea.

So I stepped back again.

He raised his hands up, like a surrender. “Get in my truck. I won’t touch you.” The gravel crunched under his feet as he moved even farther away. He ran his hand through his hair and reached for his keys. “I’ll be good.”

Nicola Rendell writes dirty romantic comedy. She likes a stiff drink and a well-frosted cake. She loves to cook, sew, and play the piano. She realizes that her hobbies might make her sound like an old lady and she’s totally okay with that. She grew up in Taos, New Mexico; after receiving a handful of degrees from a handful of places, she now works as a professor in New England. An Amazon bestseller, her work has been featured in USA Today’s Happy Ever After and the Huffington Post. She is represented by Emily Sylvan Kim at the Prospect Agency.

Once upon a time, I thought love was a fairytale.My prince was a Beast with blood on his hands and ice in his veins. My family offered to save me. The only price: leaving the tattered pieces of my heart behind.Our love was irrational. Cruel. Unforgiving. Nothing like the storybooks said it should be—but it was perfect.The longer we were apart, the more I lost myself. He was vicious and domineering, but I craved the submission. Together we were destructive, but I was addicted to the devastation. Still, I thought titles mattered. To my family I was princess, and to the Beast I was slave. I was too naïve to understand that even though he’d been my captor, he’d broken the shackles on my soul.Once upon a time, I thought love meant happily ever after. Now I know better.

My Review:

4 Stars!

Anteros and Frankie’s story continues in Beauty: Hate Story, The End.

***You must read book #1, Beauty, first***

The story picks up with Frankie free of Anteros and yet lost without him. Anteros wants Frankie, but also wants to bring her family down. The same dark, at times disturbing, nature of their relationship carries through to this second book. I desperately wanted them to have their HEA and honestly, I loved how this turned out. What I loved more? The dark, twisted, secret-filled road it took them to get where they were going.

Family, betrayal, secrets and a very twisted romance make this a fantastic read!

Are you going to punish me?” I whispered.A smirk came to his lips. “I think you’ve been punished enough for today.”Disappointment hit my stomach in an odd ache. I was fucked up. I actually wanted to be punished. His gaze slimmed as if he could read my mind, and then his fingers darted back between my lower lips, spreading them.“Unless you want to be punished.” His thumb worked a taunting rhythm beside my clit, not ever touching it, just enough to drive me mad. I clawed his neck, head falling with a sigh into the soft fur rug. “Do you want to be punished?” I nodded frantically and he said, “Say it.”“Please punish me.” There was no hesitation. The words fell from my lips the minute he demanded it.He laughed, rumbling and low. “Too fucking bad, little slave. You’re mine. I’ll use you however the fuck I want.” I groaned then caught the glint in his eye. This was his punishment: making me admit my need, making me beg, then having him deny it.His grin widened. Before I could protest his punishment, he plunged his fingers inside me.

Mary Catherine Gebhard bites off more than she can chew. She’s lived in Salt Lake City, Utah her entire life but occasionally goes on vacation from reality. Don’t worry, she sends postcards.

S.C. Stephens’s THE NEXT GENERATION is available TODAY and paranormal lovers won’t want to miss this one! Read an excerpt below and pick up your copy today!

About THE NEXT GENERATION

Fitting in can be hard for anyone. But for Julian and Nika Adams, it’s especially challenging. Born as partial vampires, a rare offshoot of pureblood vampires, the twins have had to deceive people their entire lives—distancing themselves from their peers.

Nika desperately wants a hero, a soulmate, someone she can trust with every fibre of her soul—someone as amazing as her father. The boys at her high school aren’t impressing, but luckily for Nika, Hunter Evans has moved into the neighborhood.

Julian desperately wishes he could sever the empathic bond he has with his sister. While it was fun to experience each other’s emotions when they were kids, now that Julian finds himself pining for a girl he can’t have, sharing his feelings is the last thing he wants to do.

Get your copy of THE NEXT GENERATION now!

Read an excerpt of THE NEXT GENERATION now:

My brother was normally a calm person, not easily ruffled or riled, but Russell was his exception. Consequences aside, Julian would fight him to the death in a bathroom, and drain him dry in an alley; he hated him to the core. And all because Russell was dating the woman Julian was infatuated with: Raquel Johnson.

Raquel was the girl Julian wouldn’t shut up about. They were lab partners for a semester last year, and had developed some sort of friendship during class. But while they talked on occasion, and Raquel seemed to like Julian well enough, Russell was the moon and stars in her eyes. And he treated her like dirt. It was all very tragic, and sometimes I wondered if Julian was only attracted to Raquel because he wanted to save her. He wanted to be her knight in shining armor, wanted to be a hero, like our father. Only problem in this situation was that Raquel didn’t seem to want a knight. Some damsels preferred being in distress.

Just when I was about to yell at Russell to leave already, he and his entourage finally backed away from the shower area. Julian’s body was still tight with anger as the sounds of Russell and his gang started to dissipate. When the heavy door to the locker room banged shut, Julian opened his mouth, exposing his fangs to the boys who were no longer there.

Annoyed, I put my hands on my hips and faced him. “What the hell were you thinking, Julie?”

Julian stepped away from the shower wall; his eyes were still firmly locked on the locker room exit. “You didn’t need to rush in here, Nick. I had everything under control.”

I wiped a smear of blood from his cheek. Holding my red finger in front of his gaze, so he’d concentrate on me and stop staring at the door, I murmured, “Yeah, I see that.”

He glanced at the blood and sighed. “Damn it.” Tenderly, he touched his fingers to his face; when he pulled them away, they were red.

I momentarily considered sucking the swath of his blood from my finger—the vampire in me growled in delight at the idea—but I easily ignored the desire. Grabbing Julian’s elbow, I pulled him to the sink.

Looking at the cut near his eye in the mirror, Julian grimaced. “Great.” His face contorting around his fangs, he asked, “How am I gonna explain this to Mom and Dad?”

Turning on the water, I let the cool stream wash away the yummy goodness that a part of me yearned for. “Well, since I’m still waiting for an explanation, why don’t you try out your excuse on me?”

Sliding his fangs back in, Julian shook his head; his pitch-black hair instantly reminded me of our father. Julian was right, Dad wasn’t going to like hearing about him fighting. “It was nothing,” he murmured, his expression sheepish. “Just Russell being a dick because I was talking to Raquel.”

Sighing, I moistened a paper towel so Julian could clean himself up. “Didn’t feel like nothing, Julie. It felt like…” Remembering his fear and panic, I bit my lip and handed him the towel. That had been a lot more than Julian just reacting to Russell being a jerk. That had been…primal.

As Julian took the towel, his light eyes silently begged me to not finish my statement. Knowing his feelings when he didn’t want me to know them felt intrusive, so I decided to respect his reluctance as much as I could. “It just…felt like something,” I told him.

Julian hissed in a breath as he dabbed the towel against his cut. Unfortunately, since we were living vampires, Julian and I didn’t have the fast-healing ability that our undead family members had. Julian’s wounds would have to close the old-fashioned way. “I was just having a…moment,” he whispered, glancing at me in the mirror.

With sympathy in my heart, I nodded at his reflection. Julian’s panic attacks had subsided over the years, but they crept up now and again if he was put in the right circumstances. Dealing with Russell must have put him over the edge.

I said nothing more about it as Julian wiped away the bloody evidence from his face. I could feel the lingering bumps and bruises Julian felt, shared the ache stinging his cheek. Pain wasn’t necessarily an emotion, but our bodies processed it as such. Ever since birth, I had known when Julian was hurting, physically and emotionally. My long, lean limbs felt fine, but I was aware of his injuries, and was going to be aware of them for the next several days while he healed. Yeah, double-edged sword.

About S.C. Stephens

S.C. Stephens is a bestselling author who enjoys spending every free moment she has creating stories that are packed with emotion and heavy on romance.

Her debut novel, Thoughtless, an angst-filled love triangle charged with insurmountable passion and the unforgettable Kellan Kyle, took the literary world by storm. Amazed and surprised by the response to the release of Thoughtless in 2009, more stories were quick to follow. Stephens has been writing nonstop ever since.

In addition to writing, Stephens enjoys spending lazy afternoons in the sun reading fabulous novels, loading up her iPod with writer’s block reducing music, heading out the movies and spending quality time with her friends and family. She currently resides in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her two equally beautiful children.